


Whatever way you go

by Fireway



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: AU where Gendry and Arya kill Cersei in KL, AU where Hound disappeared idk, Angst, Choose Your Own Ending, F/M, Fluff but not a lot sorry, POV Cersei, POV Gendry, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-07
Updated: 2019-06-07
Packaged: 2020-04-12 10:06:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19129843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fireway/pseuds/Fireway
Summary: This was inspired by something I saw on twitter, about Cersei seeing Gendry in Baratheon-styled stag armour.It was supposed to be just a short draft of that prompt, but it ended up being a bit bigger, but that is also why the endingS aren't super amazing - but I hope you enjoy this anyway!





	1. Dancing Ghosts

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by something I saw on twitter, about Cersei seeing Gendry in Baratheon-styled stag armour. 
> 
> It was supposed to be just a short draft of that prompt, but it ended up being a bit bigger, but that is also why the endingS aren't super amazing - but I hope you enjoy this anyway!

Dragon Queen – everyone sang her name now, as she drained fire and blood on King’s Landing. Daenerys Stormborn, the name that the girl, what was her name – Missandei? Yes, a strange name – along with even stranger Daeneryes Stormborn, had cried out as she was put to shackles, steel around her throat and wrists, as she was no more free.

 

But now, neither was Cersei. She was in shackles made of stone and steel, the Red Keep around her prison, as was her city, her lands – she had been made a prisoner in her own home, though that was not the first time.

The last time, she had been holding Tommen, sweet little boy with golden curls and dreams of being a king. On her other hand, she held her heart and hope – in other, a way out; a vial of poison. She wouldn’t let anyone hurt her child anymore.

But now the only child was the one in her belly; once, she prayed for a child of a lion, with their wits from her and their willpower from their father.

But now, she knew there would be no child, no hope – and she did not need a vial of poison anymore; Cersei would face the usurper with head held high – she wouldn’t give Daenerys Stormborn the enjoyment of leaving her throne, was it by fleeing the keep or by letting her soul escape as her body remained.

 

Cersei ran her fingertips along the steel of the Iron Throne, and for a moment, she wondered, at which point did it all go wrong; was it the blue rose given to Lyanna Stark, was it Robert’s rebellion or was it when she sent here children to die, one by one. Small part of her whispered, would she be sitting on the throne if she was born a man, though then she wouldn’t have been married off to the crown family.

Cersei’s eyes moved to the Mountain beside her throne, as well as the three other guards on the other side, all listening to the noises outside.

Cersei could only imagine what King’s Landing looked like now; Cersei had retreated to the throne room after the dragon roared for the first time, burning down a row of buildings. Now, it had been going for what felt like forever; the high-pitched wails of the dragons mixed with the buildings crumbling down, making the whole Keep tremble. But Cersei didn’t – she was no fair maiden shaking as she faced death itself, she was a lion and lions did not bow, not even to dragons.

 

Cersei’s hand grabbed the seat’s armrests as it felt as if the whole building shake, the old stone weeping as it was assaulted by a dragon. Cersei’s eyes shot up at the ceiling, as a large stone fell from the top of one of the pillars to the floor, luckily far away from the throne – but she did not have much time, anymore, if the Dragon wench wanted to come take the throne from her.

 

As Cersei looked down to where the stone had dropped, her breath caught in her throat, her heart jumping; maybe she did die, after all, maybe some rock already crushed her, not even giving her the very last satisfaction of looking Daenerys Stormborn in the eye up from the stolen throne.

As the rock had fallen from the ceiling, someone had opened the heavy door to the throne room – a man with heavy armour of dark steel, accents of golden yellow specked through the ensemble. But what made Cersei shiver inside most was the helmet with the dark stag antlers attached to either side. The man was tall and brawny, his silhouette drawing clearly against the light, a war-hammer on his side. Cersei thought, she saw a shadow behind him, but she couldn’t be sure, as Cersei couldn’t take her eyes off of her dead husband, young and able and strong.

 

Cersei didn’t find the words to utter to her guard, as they were already moving towards the man – Cersei leaned back, as a reflex. Women didn’t fight. Women knew blood, but they shouldn’t shed it – though, Cersei had never shied away from it.

 

As her guards approached the man, now Cersei saw more clearly the shadow she had seen earlier – a woman, with dark leather and a dagger in her hand. Her men saw it too, but too late – the woman who moved as if dancing, had already gotten behind them, and Cersei couldn’t tear her eyes away as one of her guards fell on his knees, as the blood sputtered from the clean cut in his throat. As Cersei stared at the woman, who was already drawing a thing, long sword from her belt, she was sure it was the death coming to get her, as Lyanna Stark stood behind her men, Robert Baratheon in the front.

What a joke it all was – instead of Jaime or anyone she had ever loved, it had to be the ones who had taken her love from her together; Robert chasing after a girl who didn’t love her, never giving his heart to her even as they were wed. _Such a cruel joke the gods play on me_ , Cersei thought – but wondered, that maybe it was all supposed to go that way, after she had failed as a mother, let her children slip away from her slowly with the years. She wondered, if it was because she loved them too much or not enough.  

But Cersei wouldn’t let the gods take her that easily, let the fates dance their cruel dances around her as they sent wicked Lyanna Stark and Robert Baratheon to get her head.

 

The Mountain moved forward now that one of the guards was dead; Cersei watched as the guard on the right turned to see who was behind them, only to have the thin sword stabbed through the side of the guard, where the loose chainmail let the steel sink into the flesh.

The guard let out a grunt in pain, only to have his face smashed with a war-hammer, his face becoming no more than a bloody mush on the old stone, his face unrecognizable.

 

And with one dead, the dance continued, but it seemed only two knew the steps to it.

As the last guard lunged towards the young Baratheon, as he was still moving from the last hit, Cersei saw the Lyanna, or the ghost of her, lunge towards the guard and slash at his sword-carrying forearm. With that, the woman danced away a few steps, and as the guard cried out in pain and looked at the one who had costed him his sword-wielding hand, the war-hammer soon was in contact with the breastplate as it caved in and sent the guard down, coughing up blood as he was dying.

 _These people are not of this realm – what power does the Dragon Queen wield to wake the dead?_ Cersei wondered, as her eyes narrowed as Mountain lunged at the woman, still looking at the guard on the ground and the man with stag helm turning towards the woman.

 

“Arya!” the desperation of his voice cut the air, as Mountain crashed to the woman, as she lost her balance. The Mountain’s hands were soon around the girl so much smaller than Cersei’s guard, and for a moment Cersei let a smile linger on her lips – even ghosts of the past had weaknesses.

But no, the girl couldn’t be a ghost – even if she looked like one of the dead Starks. Arya – Cersei knew that name, for it belonged to the wildest of Ned Stark’s children, the one with the wild direwolf who attacked Joffrey.

Then, the man with the stag helm swung his hammer, and with a sharp hit to the center of his back, Mountain’s hands lost the grip of the girl, who already was moving away, though coughing and holding her ribs with one hand.

Then, as if there never was an interruption, the two’s dance continued; with a slash to exposed skin, a hammer coming in contact with the breastplate’s steel in a sound that rivalled thunder, they were hacking away Mountain piece by piece, with coordination and wits, as the Mountain tried to hit one or the other blindly.

 

Yet, soon, as the Mountain was turning again to slash at the man, Cersei saw the girl jump to grab the helm of the Mountain, exposing the dead skin and flesh underneath. For a moment, Cersei saw the satisfying fear in the stopped movement in the man who still had his bloodied hammer lifted up, but then she felt her guts wrench as the woman was sticking her fingers to the Mountain’s eyes, her legs steadily pressed at the back Mountain as she slashed his throat with swift movements, almost as if sawing the skin towards the bone, as the Mountain tried to grab her or the stag blindly.

“NOW!” her voice sent a shiver down Cersei’s back, as it was just like Ned Stark’s – and with that thought, she saw the war hammer being lifted one last time, and with a strength of a bull it caved in the face of the mountain, the man already dead before his neck even snapped broken with a sickening sound.

 

With a loud thud, the Mountain fell to the ground, as Arya hopped off, stumbling a bit – now that she wasn’t moving, Cersei could see the already dark leathers she wore were darkened even more with both old and fresh blood, and even if Cersei guessed it was mostly someone else’s, the woman was badly hurt, too.

 

Then, the woman lifted her gaze to Cersei, as the man stood beside her, raising his helm.

It was not Robert, but the blue eyes sent Cersei years back – as did the her greys beside him.

It was not Robert or Lyanna, but something stronger – maybe a dream Robert once had, of Lyanna, of a Stark girl beside him in the Red Keep; after all, she was the reason for the rebellion. Maybe Robert had sent someone in his spirit to take back what was his, with the woman he loved spirit beside his.

 

Then, the two started moving in unison, but the man stopped at the bottom of the steps at the bottom of the lifted throne.

“Arya Stark? Come to collect my head for your father? Or your brother?” Cersei’s voice was venom and ice – and regret.

Arya did not answer, as she took the steps up, though Cersei saw her eyes search for weapons Cersei might’ve hid somewhere under the black dress.

“You’re a long way from Winterfell. I suppose I should ask you why are you bowing to Daenerys Stormborn?” Words, that was the weapon Cersei hid – she carried no swords, but her thinly veiled threats and lies cut like the sharpest of Valyrian steel.

“I bow to no one but my family.” Arya’s voice matched her birthplace – northern winds, the freeze that crept to one’s bones, just as Cersei remembered from all those years ago in Winterfell.

“That’s admirable. But that’s what a lot people tell themselves as they do the most foolish things, pretending it’s for something else but their own cause.”

“Killing you will be for both my brothers, my mother and my father. It is for me.” Arya’s words grew more impatient now, and Cersei saw her draw the bloody dagger out from her belt. “This was used to kill one king. I suppose it is worthy of a queen as well.”

Oh, Tywin would’ve liked this one. Cersei lifted her chin a bit – it was no dragon queen, but a wolf, but she still wouldn’t beg, would not ask to spare her – she was ready to go, but even then on her own terms.

Cersei thought if she should say something – but she only wondered, what would she see. She knew her children were with the Mother, if there even was any gods. But even more she knew, wherever her sweet children were carried, she wouldn’t be joining them for all the things she had done in her life.

 _Please, let me see my children one last time,_ Cersei prayed silently for the first time in years. And as she closed her eyes in thee silent prayer, the last thing she saw was the man with Stormlord’s blue eyes as he ascended the stairs, and the grey of the Starks boring into her soul as the cold dagger was pressed against her throat.

After that, Cersei didn’t open her eyes again.

 

\--

 

The hot blood coated Arya’s fingers and Gendry saw in her take in a deep breath. For a moment, Gendry thought she saw Arya’s hands shake, but then it was gone. Arya’s eyes were cold, but then she turned to look at him, and he saw the grey melt the smallest bit.

“Got your list all done?” Gendry asked, voice harsh and heavy from the smoke and ash in King’s Landing.

Arya nodded as an answer, and for a moment it looked like she would stumble and fall, but she kept herself standing, putting her dagger back to her waist.

Gendry’s eyes followed Arya as she walked past him and towards the entrance from where they came from – but only after Arya spun around, looking at him with raised brows, did he mind to move his legs to follow her; _gods, he’d follow her to the ends of the world_.

And by the looks of it, Arya wasn’t planning on going alone either, as she grabbed his helm and tossed it to him.

“You’re handier with that hammer than what I thought.”

“Practice, my lady.”

Gendry couldn’t help but grin weakly as she rolled her eyes.

 

As they moved in silence through the empty Red Keep, they could hear the dragon roar outside – just as Gendry was looking out of the window, seeing his city in flames of bright red and brilliant green, he heard a hiss from his side; Arya.

The blue eyed man was immediately at Arya’s side, as she was leaning to the wall, her hand clutching her side.

“You’re hurt – I – Can I do something?” Gendry’s voice was far more weak, far more worried than he’d expected.

“It’s nothing--”

“Let me see. Move your damn hands.” With the edge in his voice, Arya looked at him with squinted eyes and moved her hand – Gendry could see the leather shirt was ripped, underneath a large gushing wound filled with dirt. As Gendry moved his hands to touch the skin around it, trying to see the damage, Arya hissed – her ribs must’ve been hurting too.

“I’ll live.”

“At least if we get that cleaned out. Come on, we need to get out of here.” Gendry said, offering his hand to support Arya – at first she almost seemed like she would bite the offered hand, but then the look softened just a bit, so Gendry wrapped his arm behind Arya’s back and onto her side, as she lifted here arm to his shoulders.

And with that, they continued, Arya guiding him to the right direction every now and then. Gendry could hear her breathing growing heavier - they needed to hurry, find a way out. Nothing else mattered. 

 

**CHOOSE YOUR OWN ENDING:[A](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19129843/chapters/45462493#workskin) OR [B](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19129843/chapters/45462502#workskin)**


	2. A

As they made their way down from the throne room through the dark halls and hallways of Red Keep, suddenly Gendry felt his heart jump. He looked up, as they heard the dragon screech somewhere on top of them and soon the ground trembled as the Red Keep was falling down with it’s dead queen.

“ _Fuckfuckfuck_ , they still think Cersei’s inside” Arya swore, but her voice got lost as the stones on top of them shook, starting to fall down.

“RUN!” Gendry heard himself shouting, grabbing Arya tighter and bolting as the hall around them was coming down.

They stumbled towards the end of the hall, but just as Arya was about to grab the handle of the door, a large stone fell down, almost crushing her if Gendry hadn’t pulled her back.

“Sh—” Arya was trying to swear, but the air in her lungs was gone as Gendry lost his balance and they stumbled and fell.

The hall around them was still coming down mercilessly, Arya looking up to Gendry, clearly panicked – Gendry hadn’t seen her look like that in years, and in a way, it broke his heart. They had made a pact; if they’d live, they would continue from where they left off; a family, he by her side, whether it would be as a lord of Storm’s End or on the road, going wherever they wanted. The most important part would be that they were together – but only if they made it out of King’s Landing alive.

“I didn’t come this far to die here.” Her voice was far stronger than what Gendry felt, as he tried dodging the falling beams and stones. As his back the wall behind him, he felt a breeze of cold air on his skin. Arya was pressed against his side, as the space was getting smaller and smaller, a strong beam against the pillar they were standing on still supporting the weight of the crumbling keep.

Gendry turned around, as did Arya when she saw something.

“There’s an opening!” Arya said, as Gendry pulled some of the tiles and stones back, revealing a small window that was mostly blocked with the fallen materials.

The air was dusty and hard to breathe, as they both tried to rip out as many stones and tiles as they could, trying to get the opening to be large enough for them to slip through. Gendry’s hands hurt as did his throat, but he couldn’t give up, so close to living.

Finally, the window was visible enough, and Gendry turned to Arya, who was coughing between shaky breaths, her face white and sweaty. Gendry saw she had a huge wound on her forehead, maybe the one from Winterfell had reopened or maybe one of the rocks had hit her, but he had no time to ask; instead of talking, Gendry grabbed her and just in case they didn’t make it – kissed her. It was quick and rushed, but still Gendry felt Arya melt against him for that short, stolen moment; but then the reality came down with the rumbling of stones, and Gendry pushed Arya towards the window.

“Go, I’ll be right behind you!” Gendry commanded, seeing Arya’s hands grab anything to hold on to as she climbed on the rubble towards the window, Gendry supporting her legs as she climbed. Then, finally, she slipped through just barely. As soon as Gendry saw Arya made it, he started climbing as well. He was right behind her, feeling the ocean air fill his lungs as he got closer to the light, but then the rumbling started again. Gendry looked back over his shoulder and saw the pillar behind him snap like a twig under a child’s foot.

“GENDRY!” Arya’s voice was swallowed by darkness, as Gendry tried to claw his way out, but the stones pressed him down, he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t—

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about that - to get a happier ending, check out ending B!


	3. B

As they made their way down from the throne room through the dark halls and hallways of Red Keep, suddenly Gendry felt his heart jump. He looked up, as they heard the dragon screech somewhere on top of them and soon the ground trembled as the Red Keep was falling down with it’s dead queen.

“ _Fuckfuckfuck_ , they still think Cersei’s inside” Arya swore, but her voice got lost as the stones on top of them shook, starting to fall down.

“RUN!” Gendry heard himself shouting, grabbing Arya tighter and bolting as the hall around them was coming down.

“Left! There’s a door!” Arya shouted suddenly, as Gendry almost missed the frame for a long-gone door in the wall. As the stones and beams were falling down, Gendry had to throw the two inside. He tried landing on his back, as the armour protected him, while Arya was already hurt and favouring a light leather armour for agility.

“You alright?” Gendry asked as soon as he caught his breathe, looking up to Arya sitting down as she held her side, grimacing.

“Yes. We need to get going before the whole damn keep falls on us.” She insisted, getting on her feet, then holding out her hand to help Gendry get up as well. Gendry looked at the hand for a second before taking it, though not putting any weight on her.

They moved through the keep quicker now, breathing ragged and harsh, almost getting trapped a few times – but finally, finally Gendry saw the very last door that led to their freedom. Gendry knew Arya saw it too, as her footsteps grew faster, almost more desperate to taste here new life, a life where there was no war or death – at least, not in the way it was before for most of her young life.

 

Gendry felt tears in his eyes as he slumped against the stone outside the Red Keep, still holding Arya. Her hand was wrapped around him, holding onto him as if he would be gone any second.

“We survived. Arya, I’m here. We lived.” Gendry bent down to whisper into her ear, the tip of his nose tickling the side of her head, where dirt and ash was stuck on her hair. Gendry slid his hand up and down Arya’s back, as he let her take it in; she lived, as did he. The thought made Gendry choked up, as he carefully lifted Arya’s face, kissing her forehead gently, as if only then it hit him; they survived. They could have a life, outside living only for revenge and blood and loyalties to someone.

They could be a family.

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter 2 is ending A.  
> Chapter 3 is ending B.


End file.
